


Here Among the Stars

by KirkwallsChamp



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, characterization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirkwallsChamp/pseuds/KirkwallsChamp
Summary: Allen Ian Ryder and his adventures with Jaal Ama Darav throughout canonical Mass Effect Andromeda





	1. Psych Eval

**Author's Note:**

> the first chapter is a character reference/background info on Allen Ian. tw for depression, anxiety, ptsd symptoms and implied self harm and implied suicidal ideation

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. Your father falsified _what_ now?”

Judging by the look on Doctor T’Perro’s delicate blue face, this was not the particular news she’d wanted this morning....

Or afternoon. Or some other time of day.

In space, it was hard to tell.

Allen sheepishly looked away, carding a hand through his obnoxiously neon orange hair (Another souvenir from Sarah’s wild years he’d managed to mold into his own identity), “Yeah... turns out Dad pulled a few more strings to bring me along than he previously let on.”

“Well, if that isn’t an understatement,” Lexi retorted, only half under her breath, “so while you’re coming clean, is there anything else I should know?”

“Other than the crushing guilt of my mom’s death from working on biotic implants _like mine_  years ago... Suicidal depression, anxiety on overhaul from Dad’s rash decision, and my only living relative left-slash-the only other person who _hasn’t_  called me a selfish prick behind my back, being in a coma? Nah, I think that pretty much covers my mental state at the moment,” he shrugged.

The joking tone of voice was meant to imply that things weren’t that serious; doctors never seemed to buy it, though.

“Allen, if your father neglected a proper psych evaluation for you at the time of entry into the program, it could dramatically affect your treatment,” Lexi warned, her eyebrow quirked at his candid attempt at humor, “you won’t be getting the best care possible.”

“Doctor T’Perro is correct, Pathfinder.”

Allen scrunched his eyes closed in annoyance, “Shut up, SAM,”

“Thank you, SAM,” Lexi cut in, almost sharply, before looking Allen straight in the eyes, “spill. I have time, and I want a full psych evaluation, now.”

“Now?” He scoffed, using the last of the humor he’d had earlier.

He felt the tightness of a panic attack coming on in his chest. He fought it back, wrestling internally for a moment.

Vulnerability wasn’t something he wanted to show; his father taught him that if he wanted to come along, he’d have to hide his symptoms.

unfortunately, he learned quickly how to do so, at least to most untrained eyes. Lexi was better than that, however.

“Allen,” she gently prompted him, “you are in a safe place. I only want to explore what you’re comfortable with. That being said, I know you don’t want to talk about _everything_ ,”

“Or _anything_ , really,” he griped under his breath, "If we're being honest, here..."

“—which means we’re going to have to push a bit beyond your comfort zone.”

She put a hand on his arm, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“Are you... sure, you want to get into this, doc?” He asked, his mouth irritatingly dry.

Lexi nodded resolutely.

“All right then,” he sighed, blowing his breath out with force.

_guess it’s time to get into things_

“Where can I begin? I’ve struggled with depression and thoughts of suicide since I was a teenager,” he began, speaking candidly of it, like it was old news, “And— now that he’s gone, I can probably guess that Dad didn’t tell you, he’s the one I got it from.”

Lexi opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it closed when she thought better of it.

So he hadn’t told her about himself, either, then. It made sense.

 

He continued, “Dad never liked talking about that part of himself; he hid it from mom as best he could, but when he had bad days, you could tell. Hell, when I started showing symptoms, he pulled me aside, got drunk and gave me bad advice about it. I think he realized what he’d done after the first hospital visit, but—“

Lexi did her best to not act visibly surprised at the mention of hospitalization.

 

Perhaps she’d hoped he hadn’t tried? sorry to disappoint her, then.

 

“He didn’t really say anything until the second or third,” he shrugged, “and when he did, it was always a prompt, ‘ _don’t you want to be a part of something **bigger** than yourself?_ ’ I think it pissed him off that my answer tended to be a flat no. I couldn’t see myself living long enough to really be a part of anything.

But, lo and behold, I made it through high school, then college, then—“

“Your peace-keeping tour?” Lexi attempted to fill in the blanks with him, hoping it would make it easier for him to continue.

It didn’t.

 

“Yeah, that...”

She nodded.

“I... I failed the original psych eval for that, too, you know,” he said, quietly.

Lexi didn’t say anything.

“Yep,” he sighed, glancing at the ceiling, “I failed and Sarah passed, and I cried and sulked like a little kid for about a week. Almost relapsed into the old stuff, til Dad dragged me aside and said he pulled some fancy N7 strings— said he got us both on an easy assignment, out of the line of fire with the Geth and whatnot. Might have been easy for some, but the eval was right— I shouldn’t have been there.”

“Is that where...?”

She was referring to his facial scarring. He nodded thoughtfully.

“Yeah. Someone attempted to close the mass relay we were posted at. Dunno if it was Vorcha, Geth, or what, but they bombed us, and Sarah got stuck under some debris after she threw me out of the way of the blast. I got away with _this_ ,” he drew over the healed skin with his middle and forefingers, “and she got a nasty burn on her neck, along with some broken ribs and a shattered leg. We both got benched after that. I had yet another mental meltdown, and Sarah was out for physical therapy. She doesn’t blame me, I know, but...”

“But, you blame yourself,” Lexi finished for him.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I would like to think I’d blame those who bombed you,” she said, quietly.

“Yeah, but Doc... you ever think about how things could be different? In that moment, I thought I was a goner, and that was... peaceful. Blissful nothingness.”

“Allen, that—“

“Isn’t healthy, yeah yeah,” he swatted the air as if her words had an odor. He’d heard them a million times before.

“But the moment Sarah knocked me out of the way, I knew— it should have been me. I was so desperate to not be alone, I put her in danger. She let me tag along, and when she should have only had to watch out for herself, she ended up taking the brunt of what should have just been for me.”

“You both survived,” Lexi said pointedly, anticipating what his answer might be as she asked, “Why should you wallow in this survivor’s guilt?”

“Because-- Not for the first time, I realized that her life... Sarah's, my mom's, hell, even Dad's-- would have been so much easier without me."


	2. improving relations part a

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for implied self harm, depression, ptsd, and a general unwillingness to talk about it.

****

well.

Coddled by an alien wasn't exactly how he'd expected the day to end, but if hwe was honest, he didn't mind it. After all, it had been a very, very long day.

It had begun much the same way many had over the past month; tossing and turning for hours, followed by a wake up on high alert, drenched in sweat. Memories of trauma peppered with new faces and images appeared every time he closed his eyes; suddenly, more than the bomb going off on his tour, he saw with it the Kett, his dying father, and now Sarah's unmoving body, her brow twisting as she tried unsuccessfully to wake up.

When it was clear that sleep would only bring more of the same, he resolved to simply get up and begin his day as normal. In the vacuum of space, time was an abstract concept anyway.

Wasn't it?

That was his justification, at least.

The other, more intimate, reason was that his mornings included strenuous exercise, and the likelihood of him running into someone else during this hour was significantly lower than any other. This meant fewer comments on his scars-- facial, or otherwise.

He stepped into the bathroom, pulling on his muscle tee and sweatpants, and glance down his arms in the bathroom mirror with disdain.

Another day, another bout of crippling doubt and self hate, it seemed. He sighed, forcing himself to look away and continue onward to the ship's devoted recreational area. Pushing in his headpohones, he selected some hard and fast music, in hopes that it might drown out some of the negativity.

Opening the door, he was surprised to find the space already occupied-- Jaal Ama Darav sat on a bench, eyeing the weight rack with vague interest. When the door closed behind him, Jaal looked up and regarded Ryder with a nod. Allen felt his stomach drop.  
  
Just what he needed; a pair of eyes on him.

The alien regarded him with a Kurt nod.

Allen sighed inwardly, deciding it might be best to just pretend he wasn’t there. And he began to stretch slowly, trying to remember the poses that Lexi had recommended him via email. And beneath the register of his loud music, he heard something deep, and rich, rumbling.

Pulling out one your phone, he realized that Jaal had been speaking.

“ —awake, rider?”

“Sorry, what?”

The great purple alien calmly began again, “ I am surprised to see that are you awake, Ryder. Your doctor tells me that your people require no small amount of sleep.”

“I guess most people do,” he shrugged, “but when I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, it’s just easier to get up and get started.”

Jaal nodded.

“Perhaps you can assist me, then,” he said, pulling himself to his feet with what nearly sounded like a purr, “you have many primitive devices here, but I am not sure how to use them properly. Can you show me?”

Allen’s pulse thrummed as he pulled out both headphones. Watching Jaal weight lift could be an interesting experience. He worried, however, that without proper knowledge of the other’s physiology, he could do more harm than good.

“Are you talking about the dumb bells, Jaal?”

He purred again, “the... Dumb-bells... yes,” looking pointedly at the weight rack once more.

“I’m... I mean, I’m not sure what I can show you,” Allen stuttered out awkwardly, “I mean, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, if I give you the wrong instructions. They’re meant to work specific muscle groups, so—“

“So, show me how you use them,” Jaal shrugged.

_Allen, this is a quick and easy task that can be done to help foster common ground between you and Jaal, and by extension, humans and Angara,_ SAM quipped, _I'd recommend going along with it._

Ryder wanted to groan, but nodded wordlessly to affirm SAM.

He shook the nerves out of his shoulders before agreeing at last, “all right, sure. Nothing to it.”

He didn’t know if SAM could hear his internal dialogue, which wondered if this wasn’t a convenient excuse to get closer to Jaal in general— the fact of the matter was that since the moment he’d interacted with the purple alien militiaman, he’d felt the butterflies of a slight crush in his stomach. And now... was he flirting? It felt like it could be the edge of flirting.

Truth be told, he didn’t want to know just how connected SAM was to his brain. Something about an unshackled AI having access to his deepest thoughts and basest desires, just—

“Ryder?”

He hadn’t realized that he’d gotten so stuck in his own head for so long.

“Right! Yeah, sorry,” he groaned, plucking up some free weights, then laying down on the bench, chest facing the ceiling, “Here. Will you spot me?”

“Spot you?” Jaal purred around the words, raising his equivalent of an eyebrow.

“Yeah... it means, make sure i don’t drop something heavy on myself,” Allen caught himself grinning, “Come stand over here.”

Jaal was suddenly standing over Allen, his tall form blocking out the light. He felt his cheeks flushing as his thoughts turned less than pure, wondering if this is what it might look like to pleasure—

He forced himself to stop thinking about it, for the moment, beginning his reps.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five—

“See,” he began, explaining as he went. He showed Jaal which muscle groups he was targeting, “it may be primitive, but it feels like the best way to fine tune what you’re working on.”

Six. Seven. Eight... Nine... Ten—

His arms were shaking slightly with the exertion, but what made him nearly drop the dumb bells was the surprise he felt when Jaal reached out, putting a hand on each of his arms to steady him.

Electricity buzzed beneath his skin at the alien’s touch, the hair on his arms standing on end. He drew in a sharp breath.  _Finish the reps,_ he commanded himself.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

With a puffing sigh, he began lowering his arms til Jaal let go, and the weights were settled on the floor. He took a few deep breaths, his eyes closed as he centered himself.

“You finished well,” Jaal said, after a few moments.

Allen laughed, trying desperately to hide the blush coloring his face at the double-entendre.

“I did one set. Usually I do at least two or three, between other exercises. You jumped in pretty early, there.”

“You looked as though you might be struggling,” Jaal shrugged, “and as you said; I didn’t want you to drop something heavy on yourself,”

He flashed the same shit-eating grin he’d given on Aya, when he knew he was being a smartass.

Allen allowed himself a little chuckle, “you got me there, I guess. I could have handled it, though.”

“You are a great warrior,” Jaal nodded, thoughtfully, “I’m sure you could.”

“A great warrior?” He chuckled, questioning the odd statement for a moment, before—

_I believe he is referring to your scars,_ SAM interjected, internally.

_ Fuck. _

Allen shot up from his position, putting distance between them as the laugh died in his throat.

 

He was visibly uncomfortable, now.

Jaal looked at him in confusion, feeling the emotion permeate the room, “I’ve offended you... I’m sorry, I don’t—“

“No, no no, you—“ Allen warded off the apology with a physical wave of his arms, “you didn’t— I’m just— I’m not a warrior. At all. Great or otherwise.”

_Just an idiot, and a fucking waste of space,_  his internal monologue returned with renewed vigor.

“I’m... I’m gonna go,” he sighed, running a hand up the back of his neck, “Take a shower and eat breakfast or something. I’ll... I'll talk to you later.”

Jaal blinked in confusion; suddenly he was left alone, trying to process what had just happened. 


End file.
